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著者: Leo Tolstoy

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The French had been repulsed for the last time. And again and
again in the complete darkness Tushin's guns moved forward,
surrounded by the humming infantry as by a frame.
In the darkness, it seemed as though a gloomy unseen river was
flowing always in one direction, humming with whispers and talk
and the sound of hoofs and wheels. Amid the general rumble, the
groans and voices of the wounded were more distinctly heard than
any other sound in the darkness of the night. The gloom that
enveloped the army was filled with their groans, which seemed to
melt into one with the darkness of the night. After a while the
moving mass became agitated, someone rode past on a white horse
followed by his suite, and said something in passing: "What did
he say? Where to, now? Halt, is it? Did he thank us?" came eager
questions from all sides. The whole moving mass began pressing
closer together and a report spread that they were ordered to
halt: evidently those in front had halted. All remained where
they were in the middle of the muddy road.

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